An Addition of Guilt
by piratesmiley
Summary: A little twist to Of Human Action. P/O.


A gun to her head. He puts down his weapon immediately.

Her eyes are saying _don't you dare give up like that_ – and he's not really sure who she's trying to reach, him or herself – but he doesn't care.

What she hasn't realized yet is that he has absolutely no allegiance to the cause. He's correct in his self-assessment – he isn't a good person, he has no noble intentions, no hero complex. He doesn't give a flying shit about homeland security, central intelligence, or federal investigations of any kind. He pledges allegiance to the flag of Olivia Dunham, and her roving cycle of atrocities.

Her baggage is exceedingly gory, but he accepts it and rises to the occasion.

But this is different. This _would_ be like any other hostage situation, quick and easy – _ha_ – but the fiend with the gun happened to be the person who would die at the bullet. And if that wasn't bad enough, one wrong move and she could end him before herself.

This little kid was such an asshole. Ease and confidence as a mask of everything a teenager could ever want. Control. Superiority. Fuck, Peter hates this kid. Children should never be in charge, especially not ones as screwed up as this.

They make the trade, and she still has that look on her face like it's not worth the sacrifice. He ignores it. The kid pockets the gun.

"Drive."

-

"You know what this means? Peter could be collateral damage."

Yes, that is panic in her voice. It's all her fault. She cannot believe she made a rookie mistake, and even more she can't believe that Walter's White Noise Teddy Bear Surprise wasn't enough to stop a fifteen year old kid.

Okay, she should probably stop and analyze that thought, but there isn't time. A big government interference is the exact opposite of helpful; one misfire, one person with the wrong information, one person who is confused and thinks Peter is the threat, and the world would fracture with his ending.

That mistake? Intolerable.

-

Walter is falling apart. "I can't lose him again."

She understands. She's never lost Peter before but she can imagine. She's whispering reassurances that should be screamed loud and true, but it's difficult to make the words come in a way that makes sense.

"He always helps me."

"He helps me too."

She's trying to understand him, trying to take hold the way Peter does, but his father is so far gone right now that she can't help.

If something went wrong, Walter would be more than devastated. A new level of need has been reached: failure will never be an option again.

-

The guilt is too much to bear.

She doesn't sleep that night; she feels like maybe she won't sleep again ever. It's becoming an issue of stress and worry – enough to make her fear an ulcer along with narcolepsy and a psychotic break.

This whole situation is just too much. Peter has nothing to do with this; he did nothing to deserve being kidnapped and tortured. He's a bystander. But that's thing – she always has trouble remembering that he could've left and didn't, that he signed up for this mess.

Insanity. She'd never tell him this, but in some ways he's just as crazy as his father. And she loves him for it.

-

Twenty feet. Twenty feet away, a push of a button, and the car swerves dangerously and slams into a telephone poll.

It's a flurry of cars and calls and bandages, and remembering things not entirely relevant to the moment as she flutters helplessly around his unconscious form. She then realizes that she should probably get the kid out of the car and heavily sedated as a preemptive strike - things could turn ugly. Again.

She's reduced down to checking nervously from afar, every few seconds, when really she'd be better suited to just go over there until he wakes up rather than develop self-inflicted whiplash But he does wake up eventually – yes, he takes his sweet time – and almost instantly looks in her direction.

_Breathe out_.

-

"I don't think you should be drinking this much. I'm pretty sure you have head trauma."

"Are you a doctor now?"

A half-hearted jab. She thinks he should go home, but he doesn't want to fall asleep. Bad dreams and mind control and memories – and he could fall down again. He doesn't want that. But he also doesn't want to have to explain to her that he's scared.

"I was worried about you." And she says it because she knows he won't look at her; he won't make it into something. Another day, maybe, but today he's too tired and too resistant.

He does throw her a small bone: "that's nice." Because it is.

She thinks for an instant maybe Peter's mad at her, because he realized that she isn't worth the pain and sacrifice. But when she voices these thoughts, he grabs her hand roughly, squeezes tight, still refusing to look at her. Instead he looks at their hands.

"Don't believe that for a second."

He sighs tiredly, resolutely.

"You are worth it."


End file.
